just see the top of Lylda's head
above the edge of the parapet. As they watched she grew still taller and
in another moment her forehead appeared. She turned her head, and her
great eyes smiled softly at them across the roof-top. In a few moments
more (she had evidently stopped growing) with a farewell glance at her
husband, she stepped around the corner of the house into full view of
the crowd--a woman over sixty feet tall, standing quietly in the garden
with one hand resting upon the roof of the house behind her.

A cry of terror rose from the people as she appeared. Most of those in
the street ran in fright back into the field behind. Then, seeing her
standing motionless with a gentle smile on her face, they stopped,
irresolute. A few held their ground, frankly curious and unafraid.
Others stood sullen and defiant.

When the people had quieted a little Lylda raised her arms in greeting
and spoke, softly, yet with a voice that carried far away over the
field. As she talked the people seemed to recover their composure
rapidly. Her tremendous size no longer seemed to horrify them. Those who
obviously at first were friendly appeared now quite at ease; the others,
with their lessening terror, were visibly more hostile.

Once Lylda mentioned the name of Targo. A scattered shout came up from
the crowd; the apelike man shouted out something to those near him, and
then, leaving his knoll disappeared.

As Lylda continued, the hostile element in the crowd grew more
insistent. They did not listen to her now but shouted back, in derision
and defiance. Then suddenly a stone was thrown; it struck Lylda on the
breast, hitting her metal breastplate with a thud and dropping at her
feet.

As though at a signal a hail of stones flew up from the crowd, most of
them striking Lylda like tiny pebbles, a few of the larger ones bounding
against the house, or landing on its roof.

At this attack Lylda abruptly stopped speaking and took a step forward
menacingly. The hail of stones continued. Then she turned towards the
roof-top, where the men and the little boy stood behind the parapet,
sheltering themselves from the flying stones.

"Only one way there is," said Lylda sadly, in a soft whisper that they
plainly heard above the noise of the crowd. "I am sorry, my husband--but
I must."

A stone struck her shoulder. She faced the crowd again; a gentle look of
sorrow was in her eyes, but her mouth was stern. In the street below at
the ed